


Amethyst Nights

by Charles34



Series: Freckles of the Night Sky [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: I'm not hyperfixating on a show I've never watched, Idk what yer talking about, One Shot, Other, cuz why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charles34/pseuds/Charles34
Summary: Masks and words, churches and stars; the perfect night to come alive.
Relationships: Dean/oc, Dean/original character
Series: Freckles of the Night Sky [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130858
Kudos: 1





	Amethyst Nights

“Why do you wear those stuff anyway?” Sam’s voice broke through the silence, gathering the attention of the two other occupants in the library of the bunker, searching through books for the information needed to defeat the suspect of the current hunt. His pale green gaze was set upon the figure sitting next to the fireplace, the flames’ light dancing and licking each delicate feature of the being, whether human or not was unclear. 

The eyes of Dean followed Sam’s and rested on that of the mysterious figure, the one who had shown up and decided to include themself into the hunt. Their hood hid their hair, if they had any, and the mask they wore hid their features, whatever they may be, stretching over their face to give off the general structure of their facial features. It was a black, slick fabric that was probably see through in the eyes of the wearer, yet it hid them perfectly for any outside source. Their voice was deep, most likely from a voice changer. It was too deep to be natural.

They regarded Sam, turning their head towards the male in particular with a characteristic silence. They were very quiet throughout their time working with them, which was about a week altogether, so it became expectant for them to remain silent unless they felt their words were important enough to be heard. 

Although Dean was an impatient one, he grew annoyed each time. Even now he had an exasperated expression as the mysterious no-name sat in silence, thinking over their next words very carefully. “C’mon, just talk you Batman knock off,” he spoke in irritation, leaning back in his seat next to Sam, kicking his feet up on the table where the books lay. Sam quickly moved some books so Dean’s feet didn’t ruin them. 

The mystery person looked to the shorter of the two Winchesters, their blank, masked face ever so still. Then, a crease showed as they opened their mouth, words fleeting past their hidden lips. “I have no reason to show my face. Why should I?”

“Well, one, because you look like a fucking knockoff vigilante from DC comics,” Dean scoffed, lifting his pointer finger, then his middle one, “-and two, because maybe you look like a goddamn ape or something.” 

“Dean.” Sam elbowed his brother in the ribs, a small, heatless glare being sent the older brother’s way before his gaze landed back on the masked figure. “But why? Is there anything you uh-” 

“Despite whatever it is you’re thinking, no. Nobody will ever see my face. Not you, not Dean, not a friend, nor a lover.” They cut Sam off abruptly, very unlike the mystery character before the two brothers, surprising the two. They continued. “In no instance would I ever be inclined to proceed to reveal my face to anybody, not even as a dying gift. Not even for someone who would die for me, nor someone who would live for me, nobody.” They lowered their head to look back at the book in their lap, turning a page. “I shall die with my face concealed. So please, if you would leave the matter of my appearance behind, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Right..” Dean muttered and lifted his beer, taking a sip. “Whatever, edgelord.” 

  
  


It was a moment Dean remembered in full, standing at the entrance of the moonlit church, the stained glass windows making rays of color flick and flutter across the objects within the room. The memory was enough to elicit a warmth and joy in his chest unlike any other at the revelation of the scene before him.

The mystery figure, their hood and mask pulled down to reveal features so magnificently gorgeous Dean had lost his breath. Tousled, wavy chestnut hair rested atop their head, sides buzzed short. Their skin seemed to glow in the darkness of the church, rays of red and purple licking across their honey colored cheeks and jaw in a way that made their eyes the brightest jewel within the church. Purple as amethysts and deep as the folds of their mind, Dean couldn’t grasp how such a beautiful figure had been before him for two years in whole and he had never once before realized the cosmic being that had been hidden beneath a single piece of black cloth. It felt as though his body had turned to fire, his skin no longer made of flesh but dancing flames, flames that wished to touch and light the figure of the being that stood before him. This being in all its glory, with a scar stretching from their left brow to the right corner of their small, chapped lips. 

He had no time to register the movement of the god walking ever closer till they were a breath away from him, eyes melting and boring into him with such admiration and fondness that Dean began to wonder if that look had been sent his way times before this, when had they began, how long had he been seen by such a mesmerizing gaze? Had those breathtaking irises gazed at him the way Dean had found himself looking back at the figure time and time again in the past, had they raked his body in want and need, had they looked on in longing and fear unnoticed by the receiver? Thousands of questions blew up in his head, but he finally found words leaving him, hungry, needy, fearful; wanting. “Does this make me nobody then….?”

A light, rough chuckle left the wonderful mystery’s mouth in a much sweeter voice than Dean could handle, the sound of natural words making his mind turn to putty. “Dean Winchester…” His name on their lips only made him fall further into the depths of his racing heart. “...the emotions I feel far exceed that of human comprehension. These...things… to simply label them in a way you and I understand would be blasphemy.” They lifted their hands to lightly graze over Dean’s cheekbones ever so calmly, the feel of their fingertips sparking and thrumming more waves of unwarranted emotions through his chest. “You have made me feel more than love. More than adoration, than worship and need…. My dear hunter, you have brought me to  _ life. _ ” 

The night stretched on, and within the moonlit church, a new, unknown story began it’s narration.


End file.
